"But you will soon be dead and your accusations will mean nothing. Now come inside and sit. Once I've dealt with you—it'll be swift, I promise, as we mustn't cause undue distress to my betrothed—I must then deal with Lancelot. He won't be dying as quickly as you because I must make sure he lives past my wedding day. You know, to keep the bride in line."
The putative bride was busy herself. As soon as Hastings engaged Myles in conversation, she'd slid the knife from its hiding place and was working on cutting the rope tying her hands together.
"Since you're so sure I'll be dead soon, how about letting me know who your accomplice is? Is it the Countess?"
"Her?" Hastings snorted. "No. She's mostly useless. Like most women, all she's good for is bringing sons into the world. Ladies can't do our kind of work. Too emotional, you know."
"What kind of work is that?"
Augusta could tell Myles was trying to get Hastings to confess more than he had and she wished she wasn't gagged so she could assist him.
"You've had your hand behind your back since you came into the room, Cuthbert. What are you hiding?"
"You really want to see?"
"If you think you're fooling me into thinking you have a weapon, you're underestimating me."
"Try me and see. Bring your sword closer and I'll show you what I have."
Augusta had her hands free now and, trying to subtly move so she wouldn't be noticed, she reached to cut the rope from her feet but a sudden surge by Hastings stopped her motion.
As Hastings leapt toward, Myles pulled his arm from behind his back and flung it forward. At the same second, Augusta tossed her knife straight at the back of Hastings' neck. Her knife found its mark and was so sharp, it went in all the way to the hilt and the tip stuck out the other side.
The knife Myles threw went right to Hastings' heart. The man fell forward, dead on the floor, blood oozing out from under him.
Augusta shook all over but had the presence of mind to pull her gag out before she burst into tears and began to sob.
Myles ran over to her and pulled her to her feet. "Are you all right?"
She nodded but then shook her head. "I have to get out of here. Get Lance."
Once the words were out, she untangled her feet from the rope, dashed down the stairs and out the door where she collapsed on the now dewy grass. More determined now than ever to destroy the folly, she sat and let the tears fall silently down her face while she waited for Myles to bring Lance out of the place she hated.
Milady and Her Spy: Chapter Seven
WHEN MYLES AND LANCELOT CAME OUT the door of the dollhouse, Augusta tried to get to her feet but found her legs too wobbly to hold her. She sat back on the grass and watched as her brother walked around the area and shook out his limbs.
When he caught her looking at him, Lance said, "I'm stiff and numb, but I should give you some brotherly advice, Gus."
"What would that be?" His teasing tone told her he was going to recover from this ordeal more than the fact that he was moving around. She'd been terrified that he would die when she was dragged into that room and he was so still and silent.
"Try never to let a rotten scoundrel tie you up and shove you into the opening of a fireplace."
"I will do my best to be sure I don't allow that to happen."
"Good. You should make a note of that in your diary." Lance turned to Myles. "Which of us is going to ride into London to report the capture and death of Nigel Hastings and, more importantly, who is going to tell Wickham that Gus was the one to do it?"
"I didn't do it. Myles was the one who threw a knife first."
"It was teamwork that did it. That's all Wickham needs to know. I suggest we send a messenger. While we wait for further instructions, we should work on the written report. So it's consistent."
"I'll run to the stables and get a boy to ride to town. You escort Gus to the manor."
"Lance, Mr. Cuthbert cannot be seen with me in the condition I'm in. My gown is torn and my shoes are missing. I'm sure my hair is disheveled as well since I abandoned my ribbon and that gag in my mouth probably didn't aid in keeping my curls in place. People will presume he's ravished me. It's not proper at all."
Myles knelt down beside Augusta and lifted her chin with his index finger until she was looking him in the eye. "I think it's time you called me Myles and since when does Lady Augusta Covington care one whit about propriety?"
"Lady Augusta is merely concerned about Mr. Myles Cuthbert's reputation. She wouldn't want to see him forced to marry someone because of a scandal." It was true. Augusta, much as she admired Myles and would entertain a true proposal from him, didn't want him to be placed in a position to have to offer for her to save both of their reputations.
"What if Myles Cuthbert wanted to marry Augusta Covington, the daughter of the Duke of Huntington?" Myles held his hand out and assisted her to her feet. He then scooped her into his arms. "Since you seem to have misplaced your shoes—even though I found them, they are beyond repair—it appears as if someone needs to carry you inside."
"That would certainly shock everyone. It might be better for Lance to be the one." Augusta smiled. "And I'm only agreeing to be carried at all because my feet are aching too much to make it back to the manor. I also insist on being brought in the servant's entrance. No need in bringing attention to us."
"You're determined not to marry me then?"
"You weren't serious, were you?" Augusta tried to ignore the sadness in her soul at knowing he'd offered from a sense of duty. "Merely because I've been compromised, you don't need to propose. After all, only you, Lance, a dead man and I know what's happened."
Myles set her down and got on one knee. He took her right hand in both of his. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Lance's large grin. Her heart dared to hope.
"Augusta--Gus--you're the most wonderful women I have ever made the acquaintance of and I would be the happiest man on the earth if you would consent to be my wife. I would have found a way to propose to you no matter what happened with that traitor Hastings."
"I have to say, sir, I never expected to become betrothed in a torn gown with muddy feet." She laughed.
"I don't know why not, Gus," Lance said. "I'm just surprised you're not in breeches."
Myles hurled a look in Lance's direction. "Be quiet and let the lady answer."
"I believe she did, my friend. She said she was betrothed, didn't she? And as far as I can tell, you're the only one here offering to wed her." Lance looked around as if there were a line of men waiting their turn to ask her to be their bride.
"So, it's a yes, then?" Myles asked,
Augusta nodded, her eyes filled with tears. "It's a yes."
"Now that we've settled that, can we return to the manor? I think I need a glass of Cook's strongest punch. Or maybe even three." Lance turned to walk ahead of them. Augusta knew it was to give them some privacy. They'd always understood each other's needs.
Myles pulled her into his arms and carried her toward the house. She rested her head on his chest. It felt so perfect and so right.
"Do you know when I first knew I loved you?" He smiled down at her.
"No, when?" She thought it might be when he'd seen her dressed as a woman since he seemed so appreciative of how she looked then.
"That moment at the inn when you got onto the bed and crossed your legs in those breeches that emphasized your beautiful legs and said you would conquer Napoleon all on your own."
"That was rather silly of me, wasn't it?"
"It was magnificent. And then you challenged Lancelot to a duel. I was gone for sure then."
"You have strange taste in women if that behavior is what you like."
"Aren't you glad?"
"I'm glad and grateful. You're a good man and I am happy you chose me to share your life. In fact, you're so brave, when you stepped inside that turret in the folly, I knew I would be safe and Lance would as well."
"I promise to keep you thus always."
"As long as you let me hold you forever, I can live with that." Myles touched his lips to hers as he continued to carry her across the lawn.
THE NEXT MORNING, SEVERAL men arrived from the war office to collect Hastings' body and interview Augusta as well as Margaret. It seemed she would be interrogated for her part in inviting the man to stay at the estate.
Lancelot had also sent for his father, the duke, and the man arrived shortly after the others. The visitors remaining at the manor after the ball were bustled off to dine al fresco on the far side of the property. No one would be the wiser about Mr. Hastings having met his demise in the folly. The story Lancelot had put out was that as he himself had arrived at the stables in the middle of the ball, Mr. Hastings was making haste to return to Town because of some family emergency.
No one seemed overly concerned about the man being gone. Augusta wondered if anyone would ever even ask about him again. She was also curious about his true background. When he'd mentioned the ball here was the best he'd ever attended, she was sure it was probably the only one he'd gone to. Of course, he did perform the dances adequately but anyone could learn a reel.
Myles and Lance were in the meeting with the men from London for what felt like to Augusta to be most of the morning. She paced outside the parlor for what seemed to be hours. Knowing she was next to be questioned made her nervous but she didn't know how to settle herself.
Wishing Myles was outside the room with her so he could make her feel better, she finally decided to take a turn around the great hall and admire all the paintings of her ancestors. Maybe they could offer her some support or comfort.
Augusta took her time making her way around the room and stopped in front of a portrait of a lady wearing a tall ruff that signified she lived in the middle of the 1500s. The lady was a blonde like Augusta and had a smile on her face that made her seem full of mischief.
"Do you know who she is?" Augusta's father came to stand next to her.
"The label says Lady Wilhelmina Covington, Duchess of Huntington. I presume she's some ancestress." Augusta ran her hand over the plaque embedded in the frame.
"She is a many generations removed grandmother. I've never taken the time to count backward but she was actually famous in the family. It wasn't popular knowledge but more than family lore, I think, since your brother seems to have followed in her footsteps."
"Which brother?"
"Lancelot, of course. He's the spy, right?" The duke winked.
"Really? You think Lance is a spy?" She knew her face would give her away but she had to pretend not to know.
"We both know he is and this lady"—he pointed at Wilhelmina's face—"worked for Walsingham, Queen Elizabeth's spymaster. She assisted him in many matters, going places men couldn't."
"Really? Why have I never heard this before?"
"I'm not sure why you didn't know, but it's true."
Before she could respond, the door to the parlor opened behind them and several men exited, talking among themselves.
Myles stepped over to Augusta and her father. He addressed her first, "You're next. Be brave. You'll be all right."
As she moved away, over her shoulder, she heard him say to her father, "May I speak to you alone, sir, on a matter of the utmost importance?"
She didn't hear the response as she entered the parlor and the door shut behind her.
The man sent to interview her was kind and gentle and she found herself warming to him as she told what happened. She, Lance and Myles had agreed the previous evening that they wouldn't try to cover up her involvement as they didn't want to be less than forthright with their superiors.
The man laughed several times during the course of the telling but Augusta knew he meant it in an admiring way since he only did so as she told him how she responded to Hastings' improper conduct.
When she was finished and the stenographer had her sign the papers, the interrogator leaned back in his chair and placed his hands behind his head. He stared at her for an interminable period and finally nodded to himself, leaned forward and asked, "Would you like to work for us?"
Taken aback, Augusta could only stare at the man. Work for them? Was he asking her to spy?
"I'm sorry if I offended you, my lady. I was of the opinion that you would do an admirable job in places we need a feminine touch. I meant no offense."
Once what he was asking made its way into her brain and thinking about her ancestor Wilhelmina as well as her own sense of adventure, Augusta wanted nothing more than to agree, but what would Myles say?
The man stood. "Thank you for your statement. I believe we have what we need from you."
Before she rose from her own seat, she said, "I would love to assist in your work but as I have just agreed to be married, I think I need to discuss it with my betrothed."
"Oh, I am sorry. We couldn't allow that. It must remain secret, you see."
"Even from Myles?"
"You're betrothed to Myles Cuthbert?"
"I hope I am." Augusta stood. "I believe he was asking my father's permission as I entered this room."
"Since he would be your contact, I think it would be fine to discuss it with him. I'm not sure how he will feel about his wife being a spy, though."
"If it's good enough for him, it's good enough for me."
"I say, that's quite a good argument. I hope it works." The man winked. "I somehow think, you, Lady Covington, will prevail in that discussion. You strike me as a woman who gets what she wants."
They walked to the door and once he'd opened it, Augusta moved into the great hall ahead of him.
Myles was the only one in the area and came straight over. He took her hands and said, "Your father has given his permission for us to wed."
"That is wonderful." She turned to include her new superior and said, "And I've agreed to be a spy for His Majesty's government with you as my contact. Won't that be lovely?" Augusta bestowed her brightest smile on her betrothed.
"What?"
"It's true, Cuthbert. I asked her because she clearly has the skills—especially with a knife—and we need women for certain assignments."
"But I promised to keep you safe, remember?" Myles looked at Augusta.
"And you will. I'll be right there beside you. Safe as I can be." She laughed and turned to the other man. "If you think I'm good with a knife, wait until you see me with a pistol."
"And riding astride. She's got a better seat than many a man I've met." Myles shrugged as if in surrender. "I guess I'm outnumbered."
"Welcome to the ranks, Lady Augusta, if I may call you that." He bowed.
"Of course you may call me Augusta."
"All we need now is a code name for you since we can't let it get out that you're assisting the Crown."
"That's easy, sir." Myles took her by the elbow. "She's such a tomboy, she can only be called Milady."
Augusta nodded. "I like it. Milady it is."
"And now, I think I'd like to kiss my betrothed." Myles shook hands with his superior. "Please excuse us."
And the man did.
KISSED BY A SCOTTISH ROGUE
by Samantha Grace
Kissed by a Scottish Rogue: Chapter One
"YOU SHOT IT DOWN? WHAT WERE you thinking, you daft man?"
An ear-piercing screech disrupted the tranquility of the library, causing Helena to wince. She looked up from her place at the small writing desk and met her husband's gaze.
Sebastian grinned and closed the book he'd been reading. "It sounds like Fergus is receiving another set-down from Edith."
"Yes, it does." Helena returned her husband's smile as she replaced the quill. A response to her sister Cora's letter would have to wait. She couldn't write a word with her companion and land steward bellowing in the next room. "How long do you think it will be before they storm off to separate parts of the house?"
"It could be a while. Edith is scolding him good this time." Sebastian's dark
brown eyes glittered with amusement. "The poor sap."
"Your expression of sympathy lacks conviction, my love." Helena feigned a disapproving frown, but laughter laced her words. "I think you enjoy Fergus's suffering."
"Perhaps a little. After all, he caused me to suffer a time or two during my courtship of you."
Sebastian laid his book on the side table, rose from his seat by the crackling fire, and came to urge her to stand.
She eagerly abandoned her task for the thrill of his touch and sighed with pleasure when he caressed her hair. She'd never believed she could be happy wintering at her former husband's estate. Before Lord Prestwick's death, Aldmist Fell had been like her prison. Her older husband controlled every aspect of her life and kept her hidden away from her family.
Now the castle was a home that she shared with the love of her life, her youngest sister Gracie, a most gracious mother-in-law, and servants she loved as family. Even Edith was earning Helena's admiration with her unwavering devotion to Gracie.
Sebastian brushed a feather light kiss across Helena's cheek. "I will go to Fergus's rescue if you wish," he whispered in her ear before gently capturing her earlobe between his teeth.
Her heart launched into a wobbly gallop. After five months of marriage, Helena was more in love with Sebastian Thorne than she had been the day they exchanged vows. His patience and good humor when dealing with her colorful family—whether they were actually blood relatives or close friends she loved like kin—never ceased to amaze her.
"Fergus can defend himself," she murmured. "I would rather you kissed me." Her husband needed no further encouragement to claim her mouth, causing her to forget about the squabble in the foyer. For a fleeting moment at least.
"You could have easily missed," Edith ranted. "What if you had hit a bystander?"
"How else was I to retrieve it?" Fergus's booming voice echoed in the vast foyer.
Helena's hopes the two would lay their differences aside for the holidays, especially with her sisters arriving any day, were fading. It seemed Fergus and Edith had been out for each other's blood ever since their arrival in Scotland. Helena wasn't sure what to do with either one.
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